The Little Book
by MoonstoneGoddess
Summary: Amyfelyse Lapinskye is not Amyfelyse Lapinskye. She is someone, she knows not who. For the moment, a peaceful life with the mooshrooms and her little book suits her well. But when impulse takes over... when she gets restless... when she wants to know who she really is and what she's looking for... when she glides into the sunrise... what then?
1. First Entry

_I am Amyfelyse Lapinskye._

 _I don't really know how I found the Mushroom Island. It wasn't long ago, but I wasn't well and my memories are muddled. I write by the waterfall watching the mooshrooms. It's sort of lonely here. Not to say that I don't love it- I DO- but it is rather lonesome, only the mooshrooms and the mushrooms and the waterfalls and me._

 _I am a pacifist. I don't want to fight. Not that I can- the mooshrooms are my friends and no mobs- no hostile mobs at least- can spawn in the mushroom biome._

 _The mooshrooms are good friends to me- they listen, they give me fresh mushroom stew when I'm low on hunger bars, and I'm sure they'd watch the sunrise with me if they could get to my vantage point. It's my mushroom house!_

 _I built it myself in the few weeks I've been here, and the hole in the bridging wall is the perfect place to watch the sunrise- it's the loveliest thing you've ever seen._

 _I have lots of dreams. What else do I have? I have the armour I had when I came to my senses. I have my backpack, I have food, I have saplings and potions. That's it, apart from the things I've looted from the land. Fat lot of good that stuff is. My dearest things are my dreams. And my dearest dream is this: to pack my backpack, fold up my bed, strap on my elytra and, as the new day dawns, leap off my mushroom house, open my elytra, and glide into the sunrise… to find the pleasures and sorrows there- maybe even leave the mushroom biome, much as I love it here- maybe find home._

 _It's a foolish dream, because it's a big world, and it won't happen… but it just might…_

 _Perhaps…_

 _Maybe._

Amyfelyse shut her book with a sigh.

She'd found it in a pocket of her backpack.

It was a little, leather-bound book with blank pages and, since the life of Amyfelyse Lapinskye was about as interesting as it got, she'd decided to write her story.

Of course, her story couldn't really be written, because Amyfelyse Lapinskye was a lie.

The girl called Amyfelyse had woken up with her cheek pressed to the cold, purple-ish dirt of the Mushroom Island. She'd known random and basic things, like the elytra on her back was used to fly, the bread in her backpack was for eating, where she was, etc. etc.

What she _didn't_ know was other random and basic things, like her name, why she was there etc. etc.

So she'd made up Amyfelyse Lapinskye. She'd built a house with mushrooms on a mountain. She'd used wood she carried to make a crafting table and chests. She'd made friends of the land and the mooshrooms.

But it wasn't quite enough, somehow.

That was why her dream of gliding into the sunrise was so enchanting. Maybe she'd find what she was looking for, whatever it was.

Amyfelyse sighed again, deeper, and pushed the little book into her backpack. She took a deep, long drink from the waterfall next to her, then began leaping lightly down the hill beside the waterfall. Her elytra rose and fell behind her, slowing her slightly and giving her a spritely air. she sprinted around the mountain and made her way up it. She could see the magma stone around her mushroom house glowing. She'd put it there before she realised that there were no hostile mobs in the Mushroom Island places. She always had to leap over it lest she be burned.

She leapt over it now, then nimbly climbed the ladder- up past her crafting room up to the very top- where she went through the 'hole in the bridging wall' and watched the moon rise. The shining half-orb steadily ascended.

And Amyfelyse sat for a long time before she went to bed.


	2. The Only One?

_I wish there was someone to talk to but there is only the mooshrooms. There are the animals in my paddock, but I don't know how they got there._

 _I'm still lonely as anything. The mushroom biome is a place of peace and beauty, and it suits me, but I'm rather restless. That is why I must confide in this little book. My friends the mooshrooms won't get offended if I do, for they cannot read._

Next day, and Amyfelyse was tiredly writing. She was bored and a little grumpy.

A thought occurred: how did she _know_ other people existed? She couldn't remember any other people, she just _felt_ that they were there. She thrust her fist into her mouth to stifle a cry. She bit down hard on it, and tasted blood seeping between her teeth.

What if there _weren't_? What if some trance had tricked her into thinking that she was of a species, when in reality, she was a lone wanderer of the world?

Nonsense! She was being ridiculous. How could she have possibly been born if there were no other human beings in the world? Stupid.

Nonsense, nonsense, Amyfelyse told herself.

But if it was nonsense, why was she gripping the foldable bed's leg so hard?

Amyfelyse made her fingers unclench. They felt stiff. She stood up and walked tensely to the 'hole in the bridging wall', her backpack in hand.

She dove off the edge and spread her elytra. She tried to shift her weight, but her body was rigid and incompliant from fear. She drove head-first into the dirt.


	3. As I See The Sunrise

_I almost missed the sunset tonight. It was frightening. I need everything to be in order to be calm. Perhaps it is OCD from my memory loss. Understandable._

Amyfelyse rubbed the bruise on her head and a little drop of blood dripped onto the page. Amyfelyse scowled and climbed the ladder to sit on the walkway between the mushrooms. She watched the sun begin to set and started writing again.

 _The sun could be a friend, but he is all fierce uncaring brilliance except at sunrise, the time I love best. The moon, however- she is my friend. She is soft and kind, and her children, the stars, light the night sky beautifully. It is in the peaceful company of the moon and stars that I write this. I will not sleep this night, for I want to see the sunrise._

And then, later:

 _AS I see the sunrise, I say to myself, "One day I'll pack my things and fly into there. One day."_


	4. Amyfelyse, The Dead Chicken

_One of the chickens that escaped from my little 'pasture' just died, right next to me too._

 _It's a terrible thing. Now I'm afraid I'll be like it- die after a long and boring life, alone. Maybe I will obey impulse and glide into the sunrise, and then? Die wandering and lonely? It can't be my fate. That CANNOT be my fate, full stop._

 _…_ _Can it?_

Amyfelyse shut the book and poked it into the deepest recesses of her pack.

She grabbed the dead body of the chicken, still warm, and carried it as, seeing the sun was getting lower, she began to make her way back toward the mountain on which her 'mushroom house' sat. Resources should not be wasted, Amyfelyse knew it. Even food, though it was plentiful here- milk a mooshroom and _bam!_ mushroom stew.

Amyfelyse shielded her eyes with the hand that did not hold the corpse of a chook and looked up at the glaring sun. She remembered the rather high-flown language of last night. _The sun could be my friend… The moon… she is soft and kind…_

Pah! Her desperate wish for someone to talk to had resulted in her writing such soppy things in a leather-bound book like she was a five-year-old child. She had no need for such playing about! She was

Amyfelyse sighed and slumped against the dirt, the lifeless, cooling body of the cock lying on her chest. She was _who_?

She lay there, against the purplish soil pressing into her cheek. She didn't stir until a good half- way into the night.


	5. Curse It All

_I am as alone here as… I don't even know how to describe it, and I am getting sick of it, and I will get out of here. I will._

Amyfelyse rebelliously threw the book as far as she could manage. It hit a mooshroom in the side and landed innocently on the dirt with a soft _plop_.

Growling, Amyfelyse picked it up and shoved it into her backpack, as far down as she could, shoved beneath her cooked pork chops and packet of chicken and all of the other things she carried. She then proceeded to stalk up to the mooshroom that she'd hit with her book and punch it, hard, in the side. It bellowed in pain and then snorted like it was trying to be aggressive. Tough luck, stupid mooshroom, 'because Amyfelyse was in a bad mood, and she happened to have a sword.

She didn't kill it though. She'd left her sword at the mushroom house. She smacked its bright red face and stomped on its little hooves. Then she left, ignoring its low bellowing.

The mooshrooms gave her lots of space that day.

Amyfelyse retrieved her pickaxe from the mushroom house because she needed something to stab, and rock seemed good as anything.

Amyfelyse spent most of the day aggressively jamming the work-worn pickaxe into the ground in search for iron ore and coal.

Stab, jab, bang. Stab, jab, bang. The rhythm was almost soothing. But Amyfelyse was not in the mood to be soothed. She changed it to more like _bam boom crack smash whop._

She slammed the pickaxe into the stone till she damn near broke it.

Then, when she finally got out of the caves, she was hungry, tired, and grumpy. She stalked up the mountain, burnt her foot on the magma stone (which only served to increase her irritation), almost fell from the ladder and had only a cold and stale slice of pumpkin pie for dinner. She watched the sunset- stared at the blazing thing till she couldn't see at all. Then she literally fell into bed- didn't climb down the ladder but tumbled- and lay there grumbling and fidgeting.


End file.
